


300 Club

by sammyatstanford



Series: tumblr stories [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: South Pole, Very Dorky, Very fluffy, streaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 10:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyatstanford/pseuds/sammyatstanford
Summary: The South Pole research base has its first -100 day of the winter.





	300 Club

The old timers had told them to be patient, that the perfect weather would come as they got closer to sunrise, but Jensen knows Jared’s been worried that he wouldn’t be able to achieve this particular milestone during his stay. Which is why Jensen’s not at all surprised when Jared comes into the mess at the tail end of breakfast time, that huge, dimpled grin lighting up the room like the sunshine they haven’t seen in months, and smacks him on the shoulder.

“All Call just went out,” he says, dropping down on the little metal bench opposite Jensen, stealing the rest of the orange juice off his tray without asking. Jensen doesn’t even bother with a token protest.

“And?” he prompts, because he can tell Jared’s just bursting to say something, and occasionally Jensen feels generous.

“Aaaaand,” Jared continues, “it’s 100 below.”

Jensen sighs. “Have fun,” he tries, even though he knows it’s fruitless, knows he’s going to give in.

“_Ackles_,” Jared declares firmly, smacks his hand on the table, and that seems to be the end of the discussion for him. “Are you done with your food? Go to the bunk and change, I’m going to get the sauna ready.”

Which is how Jensen finds himself, half an hour later, in Jared’s loose elastic basketball shorts, his own insulated boots, and nothing else, melting in a 200 degree steam box. He’s sweating out of every pore on his body, incredibly unused to this kind of heat at this point (seriously, he doesn’t even put on all his gear to go outside if it’s not below minus 60), but at least the sweat all over Jared’s body is a little bit distracting.

“_That’s moronic,” _Jensen had said, the first time Jared brought this up. _“Your dick is gonna fall off.”_

“_Come on, Jackles, you know that’s old wives’ bullshit. Besides, I’m not letting you winter here and _not_ do it, so just accept it now.”_

Jensen didn’t think he’d accepted it, and yet.

The timer Jared had set for ten minutes goes off just around the time that Jensen feels like he’s being tortured, like he’s actually about to cook inside his own skin, and he feels a sudden, fierce gladness that they’re the only two people here right now, everyone else waiting for later in the day. Other people up close and personal with Jared’s naked body is not on Jensen’s list of acceptable things, even at the South Pole.

Jared throws him a towel, and before Jensen can second guess this all over again, Jared is stripping off his shorts, stepping out through the door, and Jensen has no choice but to follow.

They towel the sweat off their bodies hastily as they approach the tunnel. Before they go outside, Jensen puts a hand on Jared’s arm. “Don’t run,” he says sternly. “You’ll frostbite your lungs.”

Instead of acknowledging him, Jared just says, “We’re going for the pole, okay?”

They don’t run, but Jensen gets why most people want to. It’s _cold_. He’s been cold for months and built up all that heat in the sauna and he’s _still_ cold. They make it to the end of the tunnel, and Jensen is ready to go back now, immediately, before his dick really does fall off, but then Jared grabs his hand, smiles down at him hopefully.

“The pole?” he asks, and Jensen nods because he’s apparently a complete idiot for dimples.

They still don’t run, but there’s a definite deliberateness to their pace now, snow crunching under their boots, and Jensen can feel the burn in his lungs (he should really have been more insistent about the neck gaiters–Jared is seriously dumb sometimes), can feel ice crystals forming along the sweat at his hairline. The windchill is still fierce, and it’s like someone is slapping him with a handful of needles, over and over down every inch of his body. By the time they loop through all 24 time zones around the pole marker, he’s starting to shiver something violent, and Jared pulls him in close, tucks him up under his armpit (Jensen can feel the ice crystals there too, and on the hair on Jared’s chest, the back of his arms) as they rush back, too quickly, even Jensen forgetting his careful admonishments with the way the cold is setting deep into his bones. He thinks about times before technology, about the explorers who have died here, and feels maudlin and foolish and seriously why did he let Jared talk him into this?

They make it back into the tunnel, and some of the other winterers are out now, getting ready for their own run at the pole or just standing around idly, enjoying the show, and Jensen finds himself moving a bit in front of Jared, like a shield. Jared just wraps his arms around Jensen’s shoulders from behind and huffs a little laugh in his ear. Inexplicably, Jensen finds himself smiling too, the pain and ache of the cold already starting to wear off and leave behind a healthy level of endorphins.

The layer of frost on their skin is already starting to melt by the time they make it back to the sauna, slip on their shorts and join the other people warming up inside. The heat is even more startling and uncomfortable now than it was before the run, but Jensen keeps Jared close anyway, and Jared tilts his chin up for a kiss even with everyone around them. Peters has a bottle of honey whiskey, and they do a shot each, liquid fire to warm them up from the inside, and Jared smiles and smiles and smiles.

Later on, they’ll be in their bunk, Jared grinning and laying Jensen’s 300 Club patch on his naked chest like a badge of honor. Jensen will have a cough all afternoon, but when Jared smiles down at him, whispers _“Thank you”_ into the heat of his mouth, Jensen won’t even care. Because Jensen flew to the bottom of the world and just happened to meet the love of his life, so maybe it’s okay to be a little reckless now and then.

**Author's Note:**

> The 300 Club is a real thing, a group of people who have endured a range of temperature of 300° Fahrenheit within a very short time.


End file.
